Religious Boy
by the Ambassador
Summary: Why was he called the Mysticalman, anyway? An attempt to find Eusine's reasons for chasing Suicune. DS gameverse, Sacredshipping.


A/N: Well. As it says on my profile, I am...extremely inexperienced to say the least at writing romance. Yet, this HAPPENED.

On top of that...Pokemon? Dammit, left field, brain!

Warnings; slash, language, spirituality, prejudiced arseholes, weirdness, my own interpretations of the characters, which derive entirely from the DS games, not the anime(I never got that far with it)or the manga(never read it at all). Disclaimer; oh come on. Really. Do I frickin' LOOK like some filthy rich video game creator guy?

**Religious Boy**

"O Gods of Life and Death, Gods that made this world. Gods that delivered us from the unfinished lands, and brought us home..."

Incense burning, smell of sandalwood and cedar. A voice, young, soft, impassioned, slightly hoarse.

"...mighty and forgiving, Gods who pity us in our affliction. O Hidden Ones whose faces we never see, save in the faces of those we see each day...All Earth is yours, and I am yours, and I offer myself to you, in humility and in joy kneeling before you."

An altar, intricately carved, covered with old, embroidered cloth. Berries in a china bowl, glowing in the dimness. Candles, flickering.

"Grant me strength that I might serve you. Grant me kindness that I might please you. Let me uphold..."

A sob, small and involuntarily, choked back quickly.

"...uphold your Balance, as Your Servant, as Your Child, now and forever, till my tenancy in this body of flesh and bone ends, and after..."

A hiccup, a deep breath, eyes squeezed tight shut.

"Gods...I'm sorry. I got mad at Lina Marshall today and I hit her. I know I shouldn't have done it...I was just so angry, she called me a dirty faggot..."

Hiccupping again, gulping.

"...and my mom...I shouldn't have yelled at my mother like that. She w-was trying to help. It's n-not her fault she doesn't understand about me liking guys..."

A memory: sitting in the kitchen, ice-pack over the black eye Lina Marshall had given him. His mother fussing and tutting. _"Eusine, you know I love you, but if you don't stop this nonsense soon you're going to get really hurt! There are plenty of nice girls in Goldenrod; just try to find one, for goodness' sake. You know and I know that all this _homosexuality_ business is just rebellion, and it's just silly. Look what it's doing to you..."_

"...'respect thy parents'. That's what You say, isn't it? I, I'm trying, it's only, it's only...Please, can't You help her understand? I know You don't think I'm doing this to get her attention, You know it's just _me_, and it's not wrong, it's not..."

Crying.

"It's not wrong. I'm not wrong. I'm _not_. I know you don't think so, whatever the priests say. It's not a curse, You made me this way, it's what You want, it has to be! Please, please, can't You make them all understand? Why do you let them keep hating so much? Can't You send a sign, send one of Your Servants, _do_ something! Say it's not wrong to be gay...say it's _not_..."

A single, bitter laugh.

"I know...I shouldn't demand things of You. Y-you know what You're doing. I s-should take this all as a trial You've set me. I know You want me to be strong, and, and I'm trying to be, really I am, it's just...it just hurts s-so much..."

The incense burns itself out.

* * *

Eusine van Haarte is a contradiction in terms; the only openly gay student in the school, but also one of the few taking Divinity classes by choice. At least, he had been. Till today.

He should have known that new professor was no good. He did know, really. One look at her cold, closed face and anyone could see she wasn't the sort to care for progressiveness or inclusivity in religion.

Someone must have warned her about him. Her eyes had singled him out immediately, given him a long, unloving look-then proceeded to lecture the class on the evils of trying to reinterpret sacred texts, and the fates reserved in hell for sophists and hypocrites who thought they could upset the Balance however they pleased and still claim to be followers of the gods. He'd fumed in silence for half an hour before cracking and challenging her, and _that_ had gotten him not only sent out of class but told not to come back to Divinity again, ever, at least while _she_ was teaching.

He glares at the opposite wall of the corridor as if it's done him personal wrong, and tries to calm himself and get back into Balance. Somehow, however, all his prayers seem to end up as _May Professor Li be devoured alive by a hundred bloodthirsty Carvanhas._

He should get used to this sort of thing. It's been going on long enough, and it's only going to keep happening, after all. But he just never can.

He's late to leave already that day, due to detention for cheeking a professor, and he really should go straight home. Instead, though, he heads to the shrine he's been attending prayers at at least twice a week since he was old enough to walk down the street on his own.

Being here normally calms him, but today all this means is his anger becomes sadness. He doesn't belong here, doesn't belong in any holy place. If the shrine's priest _knew_, Eusine would be out on his ear. Never mind that he's been coming here for years, never mind that he believes with all his heart, never mind any of it. The fact of the matter is, according to the orthodox interpretation of scripture, he's a sinner, cursed, foul and dirty...

"Stop that," he tells himself, trying to stop his voice quavering. "Don't fall into self-pity. You know it's not true. Don't believe it."

But it's hard, hard when everyone you know says otherwise...

Deep breaths. Let the hurt pass through you. Remember yourself. Keep in Balance.

His eyes rest on the carved triptych above the altar. The Blessed Servants of the Gods, the legendary Pokémon. The holy birds of moon and sun spread shimmering gold- and silver-leaf wings above the three Lords upon the Land, the Wind Chasers. Entei, warm east wind, for duty. Raikou, wild west wind, for passion. And Suicune, the wind from the north. Embodiment of purity...

_If I could win Suicune's favour-if I could be approved by one of the Blessed Servants-nobody could ever say there was anything wrong with me. They'd have to change their minds about gay people. Everyone would know I'm not impure. If the Guardian of the Clean and Chaste thought I was acceptable-well, how could they disagree?_

The idea is completely insane, and he knows it. But somehow, it just won't go away...

* * *

"Morty, I...I've got something to tell you."

"Huh? Okay, go ahead."

"...I'm gay."

"Oh. ...So?"

"You don't mind?"

"I don't have any problems with people being gay or whatever. You're _Eusine_. And anyway, I did kind of guess."

And that was Morty, really, because nothing changed after that terrifying confession. Same easy grin, same relaxed slouch. Same amazing _comfortability_ to be around, somehow, for no reason Eusine could really define. Morty just makes him feel _safe_.

Morty is wicked humour, kindness and ego. Morty is warmth and casualness, hiding a core of rock-solid determination and faith. Morty is the person he can talk with for hours, and Morty is the person he can be silent with, too. Morty is the person who shares his dreams.

It doesn't even matter that he's back in the closet with everyone else in Ecruteak; he prays at the shrines with Morty and _knows_, beyond all doubt, that the gods love and accept him for who he is. It doesn't matter that he's become known around town as 'the Gym Leader's crazy friend'. Their quest may look crazy, but Morty believes in him, and he believes in Morty, and that's what makes him _know_ they can do this.

"Where have you been all my life?" he asks one day, and he's only half joking.

Morty just laughs, and replies, "Right here in Ecruteak; where have _you_ been all _mine_, moron?"

For the first time in Eusine's _life_, there's someone who makes him feel wanted.

* * *

It's over. Everything's over.

Suicune's gone.

All the signs were there. The way Suicune always ran when he approached. The way it followed that child. That child, that innocent, pure-hearted child, pure as the north wind; it fit, it all fit, of course Suicune would only want a Trainer as pure and chaste as itself. Of course it wouldn't want him.

He'd known. He'd always known, really. (Who had he been trying to fool?) He'd known from the first time his eyes had met Suicune's-a contact that only lasted a fraction of a second, and then unspoken words had burned themselves into his brain: _Not you_. But there'd been no hate in the legendary beast's gaze, no disgust, or so he'd thought, how arrogant had he _been_ to believe he could read a Blessed Servant's expression? So he'd denied it, thought there was still a chance, thought he could _convince_ it, gods, gods, the blasphemy. He was a blasphemer. A sinner against the gods. Foul. Cursed. Filthy.

"_Eusine's a dirty faggot!"_

"_Suck any cock today, van Haarte?"_

"_You should send him to the Sprout Tower. In Violet? They've a sideline in reparative therapy there, and they really are very good."_

"_We don't want your kind in here!"_

No. No, no, no.

There's a cup in front of him. Tea? He raises it to his lips, but he's crying into it still, and it just tastes of salt. His Pokéballs are vibrating at his belt, but he's not going to touch them; his Pokémon will only try to comfort him, and he doesn't want comfort, doesn't _deserve_ comfort...

"Eusine."

Pale gold hair, the clean, clear colour of sunlight on the coldest day in winter. Purple eyes, concerned, aching. Morty. That's right, this is Morty's house, in Ecruteak. How did he get here? The last thing he remembers, he was in Kanto, Cerulean City, Route 25...the last thing he remembers...

"Eusine. Please. Talk to me."

It's Morty. He can't not talk to Morty. He can't not at least _try_ to explain. "Suicune." It's all he can manage to say, all he can choke out before the tears swamp him again.

But Morty understands. Of course he does. He always does. "Oh," the seer sighs, quietly, sadly, and then there are arms around Eusine, strong, warm, holding him tight. He makes a weak, half-hearted attempt to fight them before giving up and resting his head on Morty's shoulder.

Warmth. A hand stroking his hair, like he's a child again, and his mother is comforting him after a nightmare. But he's not a child anymore, and he won't wake up. This is real...but he's jerked out of that train of thought by those arms gently lifting him to his feet, holding him upright. Gentle pressure at the small of his back, and, "C'mon," Morty says, so softly. "Come with me."

He walks. Sleepwalks, really. He's not conscious of anything beside Morty's warmth and his own pain. He doesn't see where he's being led. But he does see when Morty turns him round gently, to face an altar, covered with a white cloth. A censer, unlit, two tall candles in antique silver candlesticks. Morty's household shrine.

He tenses; he shouldn't be here! This is a holy place, sacred...but Morty's holding him still, whispering words into his hair. "O Gods of Life and Death," murmurs his friend, his voice low and tender. "Gods that made this world. Gods that delivered us from the unfinished lands, and brought us..."

The First Sacrament. The Introduction, the ritual beginning to prayer. How many times has Eusine said those words, himself? He listens, longingly, wishing for a closeness to the gods that he'll never feel again. If it was ever more than an illusion to begin with.

"...till my tenancy in this body of flesh and bone ends, and after..." A long exhalation. "O Gods. This...this is my friend. My dear friend...His name's Eusine van Haarte."

Eusine shivers. Maybe Morty will pray the gods to cleanse him of his corruption...

"You know him," Morty continues. "He's served you loyally, all his life. He could have turned his back on you...it would have been so easy...But he never did. Because he always does the right thing. No matter how much pain it costs."

His voice is so sincere.

"He's a good man." Morty shakes his head. "No, more than good. You know how it says in Your First Sacrament that we see You only in the faces of other people? I've seen You in his face, every day, ever since we met..." The arms around Eusine tighten, and his breath catches in his throat. "And he's hurting. Right now, he's hurting, because he offered everything he is to You, and You threw that back in his face.

"I don't understand why You did that. I'm trying to, trying to have faith, but I just can't see...Me, I was different. As long as the Holy Sun returned to the Bell Tower, as long as the Balance was restored, it wasn't important who brought it there, and it was only my pride that made me think otherwise. I was proud, but Eusine never was, not about this...not about Suicune.

"I didn't care so much, not really, but he did. You rejected him-you know that's the one thing he's been _terrified_ of for _years_! You broke his heart, and I don't understand...

"Maybe it's bad form to demand stuff of You. But I don't care anymore. Not about this. He deserves more from You! He deserves an _apology_, or an _explanation_, or _something_, or just to know that this wasn't because all that shit Your so-called priests try to feed us is _true_...

"I don't care anymore. Just _do this_, not for me, for him! I'll pay the price. I'll give anything." Morty's voice cracks. "Anything, damn you. Just...give him his heart back. Tell him he's still Your child, that he always has been." Wetness splashes down on Eusine's head. "Please. Let him be happy again."

And, silence. Silence in the tiny shrine, punctuated only by sobs.

Then Morty draws in his breath, and turns Eusine round again, to face him once more, and tilts his chin up, and kisses him.

When finally they break off, gasping, clinging to each other like they're drowning, Eusine manages to say, "In the _shrine_?"

"In front of the gods."

"My curse has infected you. It's making you do this. _I'm_ making you-"

"You're not cursed." Morty runs a finger down Eusine's jawline, and his eyes are the purple of bruises or storm clouds. "You're sacred."

* * *

"Some night, huh?" Morty tilts his head slightly, to get a better view of the man twined round him, and gives Eusine a tiny, overwhelmed smile.

Eusine smiles back, haloed in clear-golden morning light. "Yes. 'Some night'."

"I just want you to know," Morty's voice is hoarse, "That I don't regret anything."

Eusine considers. The pain is still there, the confusion, but the feeling that his heart has become a wounded creature trying to claw its way out of his chest has faded, replaced by a quiet, warm calmness. "Me neither."

They're both still for awhile, not moving, not speaking.

"So-o," Morty says eventually, speculatively. "If I asked about the possibility of repeat performances..."

Laughing, Eusine punches him in the shoulder, then admits, "I might just take you up on that."

* * *

Months later, Eusine kneels, as he has done so many times before, in front of an altar.

When he's done repeating the First Sacrament, he sighs, long and low. "Gods," he murmurs. "O Gods. Thank you."

He shifts a little, getting comfortable. "He told me he loved me, last night." The smile that dawns on his face is hesitant and magnificent. "I mean, not while he was...y'know." A blush, a slight laugh. "He says he wants to marry me. It's fine by me so long as _he's_ the one wearing the dress." More laughter.

"Of course, we couldn't, really. Not properly. It's not legal. Not yet, anyway, but...I don't know. Maybe things can change. Maybe we can make them change, even without the Blessed Servants making public appearances on our behalf.

"I've been thinking about that, actually. Even if...if Suicune had chosen me...it wouldn't have just made everything better, would it? People would probably have thought I'd somehow caught it by force and was coercing it, or that it was all a trick, or something...It would probably just have got me in real danger.

"And...I don't need Suicune to make me feel pure, either, do I? Or to reassure me that You love me. He does that. Just being around him always _did_. I don't know why I never saw it before. He's just-I'm sorry if this is blasphemy-he's just so much _better_ than Suicune. For me.

"He's...amazing. I don't know how else to put it. He has so much strength, and he makes me feel strong too. He puts me in Balance. And he makes me so happy.

"Thank you for giving him to me. Thank you so much."

-fin-


End file.
